Under the Mistletoe
by kahhtina
Summary: This story began from a prompt on Tumblr where anonymous asked: "Matthew is one of Roberts proteges with whom Mary has been in love with forever. He dates many women and one day finally starts to see Mary differently." Will likely be updated as prompts are sent in to my Tumblr. Modern AU setting, but different from my other stories.
1. Chapter 1

_From a prompt on Tumblr, anonymous asked: "Love your writing Katina. Drabble request - more Agent Grantham or Matthew is one of Roberts proteges with whom Mary has been in love with forever. He dates many women and one day finally starts to see Mary differently."_

_This fic is made up of drabbles, so they're a bit shorter than my regular stories. Also, I'm posting four "chapters" at once, because I haven't loaded them here for some reason._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part One**

"_He's…very full of himself_," Mary muttered, flipping her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly, as though to tell her sister she couldn't care less about Matthew Crawley. _Pft_. Sybil gave her a sarcastic smile, resting her head on her chin.

"I dunno, he's sort of cute," she replied, watching Matthew as he laughed with their father's colleagues, probably over some joke he'd just told them. "And I've seen the way you look at him."

"How do I look at him?" Mary questioned indignantly, hoping she wouldn't blush.

"Like you've got stars in your eyes," Sybil said matter-of-factly.

"We've known him for ages—since high school when he first came to work at the company—so who cares about him?"

"Judging by the way you look at him, you do," Sybil replied. "It's too bad he's such a ladies man, huh?"

Mary scoffed. "I don't know what those women see in him. His head's so big, I'm surprised it can fit through the door."

"He can be sweet, you know. Remember when he got you those flowers for your birthday?"

"Only because he drove over my cat. Poor Mr. Waffles. Besides, I don't know why you're bothering defending him. The only way I could care less about Matthew is if I were dead," she said flatly.

"Mmhmm, right," Sybil murmured, finishing her coffee. "Well, see you after work."

Mary sighed, her eyes somehow finding Matthew once Sybil was gone. _I don't like him, I don't_, she insisted, gazing at him. _Just because he's nice to look at, it doesn't mean I like him. _He laughed again and Mary sighed again, half-wishing he would come over and talk to her. As though feeling her gaze on him, Matthew turned his head, eyes met, and Mary felt her heart race as he started to move toward her, a small smile on his face.

"Hey, Mary," Matthew said once he reached her table. "Have a nice lunch?"

"It was fine," she replied pertly, wishing her cheeks weren't so red. She tried to cover them up with her hair.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, motioning to the chair next to hers.

"Whatever you like," Mary murmured finishing her tea.

"It's been a while since we've talked—how've you been?"

She forced the urge to narrow her eyes at him. Matthew Crawley rarely gave her any attention at all, so why was he so interested in speaking to her now?

"Fine," she said, heart giving another start as he smiled. God, that smile did something to Mary. She forced herself not to look too goo-goo eyed, feigning interest in checking her mobile instead.

"You bringing anyone to the Christmas party tonight?" he asked. Something in his tone made her look up.

She did narrow her eyes this time. "Are you making fun of me?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows, a cheerful smile still on his face. "No, no of course not."

Mary thought she heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "God, you're hilarious, Matthew. Really witty." She stood, ready to make a getaway. "Just because I came by myself last year—oh, Mary must be perpetually single for a reason!"

"Mary, I wasn't—"

"Why don't you save it for someone who cares, Matthew?"

With that, she stomped off, pulse pounding in her ears and tears of embarrassment burning her eyes.

…

"Come on, Mary, it's already started!"

She rolled her eyes, following Sybil and her boyfriend, Tom, into the ballroom, wishing she could be anywhere else but here.

"Merry Christmas, my dears," their mother greeted them. "Your father's already talking shop…as usual."

Mary glanced over to where her father stood, surrounded by his colleagues, Matthew among them. He met her eyes immediately and she felt herself blush unintentionally, causing her to look away.

"I'm going to get something to drink," she muttered, heading across the room before anyone could respond.

As though wanting to embarrass her further, Matthew appeared at her side, taking her arm to keep her from walking away.

"Mary, I wanted to apologize for earlier," he said, blocking her path.

"Whatever—it's fine," Mary said quickly, trying to extract her arm from Matthew's hand.

He was about to respond, but another voice spoke, "Oh, look, you two are under the mistletoe!"

Both turned and stared at the woman who'd said it before glancing up at the space above them. Mary saw the mistletoe and was tempted to knock it down, as well as issue a swift slap to Matthew's face. But she'd already been embarrassed enough that day. She looked at Matthew and he stared back at her, his expression surprised. She couldn't tell if he looked repulsed or not.

"You have to kiss! It's tradition," the woman said cheerily.

Matthew's brow furrowed and he gazed at her apologetically, as though he thought she'd rather die than kiss him. Then, he leaned forward, his hand still holding her arm, and quickly pressed his lips against hers, Mary too dumbstruck to respond. He chuckled, but she thought this was more for the other spectators that had gathered, rather than for her.

"Excuse me," Mary said suddenly, pulling away and hurrying out of the room, the burning sensation of Matthew's lips still on hers.

She burst out into the garden, grateful the party was on the ground floor. Ignoring the chill in the air, she walked until she reached a fountain, taking a seat on the stone ledge, the concrete practically freezing beneath her dress, but she couldn't stand any longer.

"Mary?"

Her body tensed, her hands balling into fists. _God, why couldn't he just leave her alone?_

Mary titled her head to look at Matthew, not bothering to smooth the glare on her face. "What do you want?" she spat, getting to her feet even though she felt dizzy from the sight of him.

"You didn't let me apologize," he said, approaching her so quickly Mary felt like she might fall over. "Mary, I'm sorry if you thought I was making fun of you, but I swear I wasn't. I only wanted to know if you were coming with anyone tonight."

She frowned. "And why would you give a shit about that?"

Matthew snorted. "God, Mary, you're infuriating, do you know that? I'm trying to be nice, but you _always _take _everything _the wrong way!"

"Really, Matthew, and what is the right way? Falling all over you and simpering? That'll happen when hell freezes over," she retorted and he scoffed. She turned to leave, to find some place where she could be free of him.

"Bloody hell, this isn't how I thought our first kiss would go," he murmured.

She turned on the spot, brow furrowed as she looked at him. "What?"

Combing fingers through his hair, Matthew sighed. "Christ, Mary, do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you? But—"

"But you were too busy kissing other women, I think that's what you mean," she interjected furiously.

He stepped forward, carefully, as though he thought she would bolt again. "Do you know how long I've had a crush on you? Since I first joined the company, but you were just a kid—"

"I was sixteen," she said defensively. "I think that's hardly—"

"I was twenty-one, Mary," Matthew said, "you were a kid. A beautiful, silly girl."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up," Mary spoke tersely, her mind in a haze from his declaration. "In case you hadn't noticed, ten years have passed and I'm not a little girl anymore."

"It would hardly be the truth if I said I hadn't," he murmured, his voice soft in spite of her biting tone. "But I sort of ruined every chance I ever had with you by running over that mangy cat on your eighteenth birthday, didn't I?"

"Mr. Waffles was not mangy," Mary breathed, heart pounding in her ears and Matthew chuckled.

"I'm still sorry about that," he said, reaching his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Mary swallowed hard, the place his fingers had gazed against her skin feeling as though it were on fire.

"Well, I suppose he did have it coming, napping under the back tire," she whispered, biting her bottom lip as Matthew rested his hand on her cheek, a smile on his face.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Are you cold?"

"I-I'm fine," she said, voice shaking.

"Here," Matthew said, slipping out of his suit jacket before draping it over Mary's shoulders. "Better?"

She inhaled slowly, nodding as she was wrapped in fabric that still radiated the warmth of his body. It smelled like him, a mixture of cologne and a scent that was so distinctly Matthew she could hardly think straight.

"How…how did you think our first kiss would go?" she voiced finally.

His smile widened. "Well, not egged on by strangers, for a start. And certainly not after pissing you off."

"It's not that difficult to do—just ask my sisters," she replied, inciting another chuckle from Matthew.

"You certainly have spirit," he said. "Which was one of the things I noticed first about you."

"Really? I'm not surprised it didn't make you hate me, I've been told I can be a bit intimidating."

"Perhaps at first, but then again you were still so young. I knew I had no right to have such thoughts about my boss's daughter, no matter how beautiful I found her."

Mary swallowed again. "How do you still keep saying all the right things, Matthew?"

"I've had ten years to rehearse it," he whispered, laying his free hand lightly on the waist of her dress, fingers caressing the fabric as he moved closer, the heat from his body finally reaching hers. "One can only hope practice has made perfect."

"We'll see," she breathed, looking up into his face, his ridiculous half-smile at her invitation causing her heart to skip a few beats.

He leaned down, bringing his lips to hers more slowly than before, his kisses lingering for much longer as his hands held her close, trailing down to rest on her hip. Warmth spread through her body in spite of the cold, heat radiating from every touch.

"So?" he asked, pulling away at long last, but not going far, his nose resting against hers.

"Not bad," she exhaled, hardly able to string even such a simple sentence together. "Definite potential."

Matthew chuckled, his hand resting against the back of her neck. Mary shivered from his touch rather than the cold, but he frowned. "I should get you inside. It's too cold out here."

"No, please," she insisted, clasping her fingers around his wrist. "I'm fine as long as i'm with you."

He smiled. "God, I never thought those words would come out of your mouth," he teased.

"Well, I'm full of surprises," Mary murmured, hooking her arms around his neck. "I think I'm in love with you."

Matthew stared at her for a moment, eyes widening slightly. "Oh, my God."

Mary blushed, tears immediately filling her eyes. She turned away, regretting her own stupidity. "Sorry," she muttered, heading back inside although she didn't really want to, Matthew's jacket still over her shoulders.

"Wait, please," Matthew said, catching up to her quickly, his fingers grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to him. "Mary, you…love _me_?"

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. Why did she have to be so stupid, ruining a perfectly good moment with feelings?

"Do you know how many times I wished I could say that to you?" he asked, the urgency in his voice drawing her eyes to his. "God, I'm so in love with you, Mary."

"But all those other women—" she began slowly.

"None of them mattered at all. Not one bit. I was just trying to distract myself from not being able to have you—not being able to love you. Holy shit, I've been in love with you for years, but I thought you hated me."

She scoffed. "I wish I had. Maybe seeing you with so many women would have hurt less."

"Damn, I'm such a fool," he murmured, his fingertips touching her face again. "I never stopped thinking about you, Mary. Forgive me?"

She took a deep breath before kissing him hard, forcing his lips apart with her tongue as her hands tugged on his hair.

"Is that a yes?" he breathed, leaning his forehead against hers.

"If you like," she replied before kissing him again, wondering why it had taken them so long to truly see one another.

_**Thoughts?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Anonymous asked: "How about more of the 'Matthew is one of Roberts proteges with whom Mary has been in love with forever' universe, please?"_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Two**

"We should probably get back inside," Matthew breathed, lips now against Mary's neck. He lightly pressed them to her skin, when only moments before his teeth had been boring into the same spot, as though searching for something only they could unleash.

She sighed. She'd been enjoying their make-out session in the garden immensely and hated the idea of going back inside, back to awkward small-talk and drunken colleagues.

"Oh, hell," Mary muttered, smoothing her fingers through Matthew's hair.

"What? What is it?" Matthew asked, as though there was something wrong with his shirt or he had lipstick on his face.

"Papa—he frowns upon romantic relationships between his employees," Mary said.

"But that's not a policy. It's just a facial expression," Matthew retorted with a grin.

"Don't be stupid," Mary said tersely. "No, he absolutely hates it, I've heard him say so. And God knows the things he's said about you, anyway."

Matthew frowned, his face worried. "Wait—what has he said about me?"

"Well, you're a bit of a…ladies' man," she said carefully.

"That doesn't sound as horrible as you made it seem," he teased, relief washing over him.

"I was diluting it. You're a man whore."

Matthew made a choking noise, clearly startled. "He called me that?"

"A bit," she said. "He loves you—God, sometimes I think more than his own children—but you're not exactly the guy he'd choose for one of his daughters. If I walked in there holding your hand, I'd be torn apart for sure."

"I'll just have to change his mind," Matthew replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Not tonight, huh? I'd hate to ruin his Christmas," Mary replied. "And mine."

"You mean I have to stay away from you for the rest of the night? I'm not sure that's something I'm willing to do."

"Just keep it platonic. It can't be that difficult. We could even dance if you asked nicely," she murmured.

Matthew laughed, the sound making her smile. "Do you have any plans for _after_ the party."_  
_

"I thought I said I didn't have a date," Mary replied, taking a ragged breath as Matthew nibbled on her ear. "But I did catch a ride with Sybil and Tom."

"Well, maybe Sybil and Tom accidentally leave without you and you'll have to find another way home," he breathed against her neck.

"Hmm, intriguing idea. And I suppose you'd be my ride home?"

Matthew pulled back with a grin. "I'll take you all sorts of places, Mary."

She felt her cheeks redden. "How could I say no to that?" she retorted, slipping out of his jacket. "Let's go in."

Sighing, Matthew put his jacket back on, following Mary back inside.

"Count to twenty before you come inside," she instructed him. Matthew laughed, but remained by the door while Mary stepped inside, largely unobserved by the party goers. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, heading for the drinks table again.

"Mary—we were wondering where you got to," her mother said, spotting her as she picked up a glass of wine.

"Just looking for the loo. I had to fix my hair," she lied easily, crossing to where her parents stood with Sybil and Tom.

"What's the matter with your neck?" Robert asked, pulling Mary's attention away from Matthew, as he'd just come back inside. She forced herself to not look at him.

"My neck?" she questioned, touching her skin.

"It's all red and blotchy," he said, pointing at it. Mary felt her cheeks redden. _Oh, God._

Across from her, Sybil pressed her lips together, as though she'd just realized something. "It must be the heat," Sybil said, grabbing Mary's arm. "I think I have some cover-up."

She hauled Mary out of the room, only stopping when they were alone in a slightly darkened hallway.

"Oh, my God—OH, my God!" Sybil said with a giggle. "Were you just outside with Matthew?"

Mary frowned. "What? God, no. I was fixing my hair—"

"Oh, please," Sybil scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He disappeared about ten seconds after you did—after your _kiss_. If that's what you want to call it."_  
_

"Shut up," Mary retorted halfheartedly. "_That_ was not my fault."

"I thought you hated him," Sybil said, ignoring Mary's statement about the mistletoe.

"Hate is a very strong word," she replied, avoiding her sister's gaze.

Sybil squealed. "OH, MY GOD!" She jumped up and down, grabbing Mary's hands. "Did you kiss—like for real?"

"Sybil," Mary sighed, "you know how Papa feels about those kinds of things. Do you really think I'd jeopardize my job for some guy like Matthew?"

"You? I think your job's safe, boss's daughter and all that," Sybil said, shrugging. "But would Matthew?"

"See?" Mary said.

Sybil frowned. "Then why does it look like you've been bitten by a vampire?"

Mary swallowed.

"Yeah, okay, don't tell me, Mary. That's fine. But I'm not blind," Sybil said.

"You…you won't tell Papa, will you?" Mary asked.

"Have you no faith in me? Besides, I'm pretty sure he's been in love with you since he ran over Mr. Waffles," Sybil replied.

"You were fourteen when that happened!"

"Yes, but a very perceptive fourteen-year-old," Sybil said with a smirk.

"Apparently," Mary snorted.

Sybil laughed. "And I'm still perceptive, sis. Just be careful. I like Matthew, but I don't want him to hurt you. Or for Papa to have a coronary over the two of you."

"No one wants that," Mary replied.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Now how about that cover-up?" Sybil asked, leading Mary to the loo.

"Bless you."

…

"Mama, where are Sybil and Tom?" Mary asked.

"They left—oh, dear, you came with them didn't you?" Cora asked. "Papa and I would take you home, but we're going in the other direction. We could order a taxi—"

"It's fine," Mary said, trying not to smile. As Cora spoke, Matthew had come outside and was speaking to the parking attendant, his eyes flitting to hers momentarily.

"Oh, Matthew!" Cora called out, flagging him down with her purse strings. He crossed the pavement, a friendly smile on his face. "Matthew, could you give Mary a lift to her flat? Sybil and Tom have already left and Robert and I are going in the other direction—"

"You don't have to—" Mary interjected.

"That wouldn't be a problem," Matthew said, all his attention on Cora, but Mary saw his eyes sparkle with laughter. "They're just bringing my car around."

"You're such a dear," Cora said, planting a kiss on Matthew's cheek. He winked at Mary, who tried not to look too excited. "Have a good night, darling," Cora told Mary, giving her a quick kiss as Matthew's car stopped by them. "See you on Christmas Eve."

"Good night, Mama," Mary said, her heart racing as Matthew watched her. They hadn't spoken much for the rest of the night, but neither of them could keep from looking at the other, Mary's mind filling with memories of his lips on hers.

"Shall we?" Matthew asked, opening the passenger door for her.

"Thanks," she muttered, sliding into the car. A few seconds later, Matthew joined her. Lips pressed together, he drove away without speaking, Mary's heart fluttering nervously in her chest.

"Bloody hell, I'm glad that's over," Matthew said as he sped down the road, reaching over to take her hand in his.

"It was rather torturous," Mary murmured, bringing his hand to her lips.

"This is torture. Where's your flat?" he groaned.

"What makes you think you'll be invited inside?" she teased, kissing each of his fingers.

"God, we can snog in the car like a couple of teenagers, but I'll be damned if I don't kiss you again," he muttered.

"It's just ten minutes away," she said. "Turn right up here."

"Thank God," he sighed, his fingers clutching hers.

Ten minutes passed, the silence tense, as both were thinking about what would happen.

"Just here," Mary said, relief flooding through her as the building came in sight. Matthew directed the car to the curb, throwing it into park before turning to her.

"So, here or inside?" he whispered, leaning across the small space to kiss her neck.

"It's warmer inside," she replied, pressing her lips to his hair.

"I bet it is," Matthew said in a thick voice, kissing her one last time before turning off the car and jumping out, hurrying to her side, as though afraid she'd change her mind.

_**Thoughts?**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Anonymous asked: "Drabble request for the mistletoe 'verse. Matthew takes to teasing Mary in front of her father to see how much he can get away with. Grabbing her ass during serious conversations, innuendos at the dinner table and such."_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Three**

What the hell are you doing here?"

Mary felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under her, like she was falling straight through the floor.

"Nice to see you, too, Mary."

Matthew winked at her, his smirk doing strange things to Mary. He headed for the library, where the entire family had gathered for Christmas Eve festivities, but Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the service stairs.

"No, seriously, what are you doing here?" Mary asked once she'd pushed him into the narrow passage. His arms were around her in a moment, his face so close she could practically feel his lips on hers already.

"Your father invited me," Matthew said, pressing his lips to her ear.

"You can't be serious," Mary said. "It's Christmas—"

"And he's feeling particularly generous," he whispered, tracing his lips down her jaw. "As am I."

His hands slipped lower on her waist.

"Matthew," she complained, guiding his hands up higher before she lost control of herself in the stairwell. "Papa's going to murder me if he finds out we're seeing each other. You're going to completely ruin Christmas with your irresistible-ness."

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun," Matthew said, brushing his nose against hers. "Besides, Robert invited me, I can't very well show up and then leave."

"Why would he invite you anyway? Don't you usually spend Christmas on some God-forsaken beach with suntanned women wrapped around you?" she asked tartly.

He chuckled. "Not any more. I told him my plans fell through, so he invited me to stay at Downton," he explained, tipping her chin up. "I think you're just going to have to accept that I'm going to be here until New Year's, pestering you."

"And kissing Papa's ass," she interjected with a smirk.

"Well, he's got to know that I'm a changed man, Mary. Unless, you don't think I am?"

She rolled her eyes. "Giving up your holiday at the beach to stay here and battle the cold, well, that's at least a start, isn't it?"

Matthew smiled. "Now, if only we could have adjoining rooms," he breathed, his lips against her neck.

"Only if you want to be murdered."

….

"Matthew, dear, could you grab that drink for me?" Cora asked from her seat on the sofa.

"Of course, Lady Grantham," Matthew replied, leaving his place at her side to fetch the drink she'd left on the other side of the room. He passed by Mary, giving her side a pinch with his fingers before returning to her mother. She forced herself not to cry out, clenching her teeth as she watched him walk away from her.

"Thank you, Matthew, you're such a darling. And please, it's Cora."

Matthew smiled good-naturedly, his eyes flicking to Mary's for a moment. She was so exhausted from the charade, from keeping herself away from Matthew, she thought she might scream. God, he was infuriating, intentionally brushing against her when she couldn't respond, making eyes at her over dinner when no one was looking.

"It's such a shame your plans for the holiday fell through," Cora ventured. "Robert said you usually go to the south of France."

"It was a blessing, actually," Matthew replied, making sure Robert was listening. "I suppose I'm growing to appreciate the life around me, it's much more fulfilling."

His eyes met Mary's again and she felt her cheeks redden.

"My, that's quite some talk, coming from you," Robert replied with a laugh.

"Well, I'm a bit of a changed man, Robert," Matthew said, tearing his gaze from Mary.

"Yes, that comes with age," Robert murmured distractedly. "You start to appreciate things more."

"I think I'll head up," Mary said, walking over to kiss her father's cheek. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Sweet dreams, dear," Cora said.

As she left the room, Matthew's voice followed her out. "Look at the time. I'm rather spent as well, do excuse me."

She crossed to the staircase, brisk footsteps drawing toward her slower ones.

"Bloody hell, I thought I'd never get an out," Matthew said, grabbing her hand as she took the first step up.

"Matthew," Mary whispered tersely, eyes frantic. Sybil had left the room shortly after the other two, her lips pressed into a line as she looked at them.

"You two are ghastly," Sybil said, and Matthew dropped Mary's hand. "It's amazing Papa hasn't noticed anything going on yet."

"I don't know what you—" Mary began, but Sybil only shook her head.

"Oh, your secret's safe with me," Sybil said. "Do try to be more careful. And I'd suggest you stay in your own rooms tonight."

Mary blushed and beside her Matthew looked embarrassed.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked.

"Oh, please, you've been making eyes at each other all night."

"We have no—"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed," she said, a smile on her face as she passed them.

"So, your room or mine?" Matthew asked, following Mary up the stairs once Sybil was gone.

"Matthew," she protested, "you heard what Sybil said. Do you want to ruin Christmas?"

He snorted, pulling her to him once they reached the gallery. "What about _my_ Christmas?" he questioned.

"Darling, don't be so selfish," Mary reprimanded, but Matthew only smiled.

"_Darling_?" he asked, bringing his face closer to hers.

Mary blushed. "Shut up," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Don't be so rude, _darling_," he teased before pressing his lips to hers.

Mary groaned into his lips, pulling her face away suddenly. "God, fine, come on."

She grabbed his and and tugged until he was following after her, entering her bedroom.

"I used to dream about coming in here," Matthew murmured with a grin.

"What a creep," Mary retorted, pushing him onto the bed and bringing her lips to his neck.

"Not anymore," he breathed, rolling on top of her. Mary stifled a squeal as Matthew kissed her hard, pushing every thought of wrong from her mind.

_**Thoughts?**_


	4. Chapter 4

_For shana-rose and klarinette49 as well as two anons, one who asked "Can we get a drabbled in the Matthew is a ladies man series where M/M go to some big fancy corporate event and a big client/celeb hits on Mary and Matthew gets jealous" and another anon who asked "Mary overhears Matthew talking to mother about her." :)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Four**

Music filled the room, the gentle melody played by the band causing a feeling of contentment to move through her. Mary turned her head, her eyes meeting Matthew's from across the room. A smile spread over her lips and she forced it away, but still her eyes sparkled as he walked to her.

"Evening," Matthew said, his voice light as he smiled back at her. "You look beautiful."

"Be careful," she murmured, closing her fingers around his wrist for a moment before pulling away. "Papa's just over there." She turned her head, checking that Robert's back was to them.

"I suppose that means I shouldn't kiss you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Positively not—unless you want the entire party to know."

"I wouldn't mind everyone know that my girlfriend is the most gorgeous woman in the room," Matthew murmured, causing her to blush.

"Oh, Matthew," she said, covering her smile. "So I'm your girlfriend, am I?"

"If you like," he replied. "God, I really want to kiss you."

"You'd better not. Perhaps you should position yourself near me at midnight and you'd be able to get away with a polite kiss?"

He chuckled. "Polite my ass," he said impishly with a wag of his eyebrows.

"Oh, Mary," Cora said, appearing suddenly. Mary smoothed the smile on her face as Matthew pulled back slightly. "Could you keep an eye on Mr. Pamuk tonight?"

"You mean that client Papa's trying to get to buy all those shares?"

"And spend half a million pounds," Matthew interjected.

"Yes, him," Cora said, pointing out a dark-haired man who Mary had to admit was rather handsome. Not that she would say it aloud, as Matthew was now looking daggers at him. "Kemal doesn't know anyone and Papa can only do so much, he's got other guests to greet."

"Really, Mama, I'm sure he can take care of himself—he's a grown man, after all," Mary attempted to avoid the responsibility, as clearly Matthew wasn't too keen to have her pinned to Pamuk's side all night.

"Just do it," Cora said firmly and Mary fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Ugh, fine," she groaned and Matthew looked like he'd just tasted something sour.

"Matthew, dear, Robert was asking for you," Cora said, ignoring Mary as she pulled Matthew away. He cast one last glance at Mary before disappearing with her mother.

She sighed, heading in the direction of Kemal Pamuk. He smiled as soon as she reached him, as though he'd been warned of her arrival.

"You must be Mary," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Pamuk, I am," Mary told him, offering him a rather strained smile. Despite the fact that he'd reached Robert, Matthew was now watching Mary's interaction with Pamuk, a fact that made her rather uncomfortable.

"Oh, please, call me Kemal," he said. "And might I say, Robert never said he had such a pretty daughter."

She blushed, rather unfortunately as Matthew's expression turned very stony. "Well, thanks," she said, feeling uncomfortable.

"I hate to burden you with my sorry arse, but I don't know anyone and your father—"

"It's no problem. I'm sure it'll be fun. Can I get you a drink?"

Kemal lifted his half-full wine glass to her. "All covered, but thanks, love. Can I get _you_ one?"

"I think I'm fine for now," Mary told him, ignoring Matthew's continuing gaze.

"So, you work for your father?"

Mary nodded. "I work in the marketing department."

"Secretary?"

She fought the urge to narrow her eyes. "Actually, I'm the assistant head of department," she told him. "I have a degree from Cambridge."

Kemal raised his hands in surrender. "Whew, sorry about that. You're a bit too pretty to be a brain though, aren't you?"

She forced a tight-lipped smile. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Ah, well, nevermind, love. Say, do you want to dance? Something to do while we chat?"

Mary glanced over where her mother stood, nodding and attempting to give her an encouraging smile.

"Fine," she agreed, wishing she had some out or that someone else had dealt the task of looking after this sexist arse. Maybe he should dance with Matthew.

They walked to the dance floor and Kemal placed his hand on Mary's waist, moving it progressively lower as the song wore on, until it was nearly resting on her bum.

"Could you move your hand?" Mary asked, teeth grinding.

"Oh, sorry, love," Kemal said, moving his hand lower.

Her discomfort heightened, Mary pulled away. "You know that wasn't what I meant," she said angrily.

"I apologized," Kemal said sarcastically.

Before Mary could respond, Matthew had stepped between them.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you, mate?" he asked, probably the angriest Mary had ever seen him.

"Matthew—" she ventured, not wanting him to make a scene, but Kemal was already responding.

"Me? Nothing, _mate_," Kemal said acerbically. "Just dancing with Mary here."

"Like hell you are," Matthew growled, but Mary grabbed Matthew by the lapels and hauled him from the room, ignoring the many stares they were getting as she shut the door on the sitting room.

"What the fu—?" she began, but Matthew cut her off.

"Don't get pissed at me just because I came to your defense. That slimy git putting his hands all over you, God, I'm going to thrash him."

Mary blocked the door. "Don't you dare, Matthew Crawley. You'll be fired for sure. Besides, I was handling it on my own, just fine."

Matthew snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I was, if you had just left well enough alone. Did you even think of how it would look before you stormed over? Shouting at a potential _client_?"

He frowned, but didn't speak, although Mary could tell he hadn't given it one thought.

"God, and now everyone is going to be wondering why you were so bloody interested in coming to my defense, aren't they?"

"Well, fine, then! Do you want me to go tell Robert now? After I've already gone and made a complete arse of myself?" he yelled back.

Mary swallowed, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. "I don't know what I want," she murmured, holding out her hand to keep him away before slipping out the door. She heard Matthew say her name, but she ignored it, hurrying down the corridor and out of sight.

A few minutes later, after grabbing a bottle of wine from one of the serving staff, she found herself on the floor of the empty boot room, sitting on a wooden crate, muffling her sobs in the hem of her dress.

The minutes slipped by, a quarter of the wine bottle disappearing before she heard voices outside the door.

"Cora, have you seen Mary?"

Matthew's voice was too close.

"No, I haven't seen her since…what did you need her for?" her mother asked him.

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I…I don't know what came over me," Matthew said, carefully choosing his words.

Cora was silent for a minute, and Mary leaned forward in anticipation of what her mother would say. "Mr. Pamuk was being rather handsy. I had no idea he was such a jackass." Matthew laughed as Cora continued. "Unfortunately, his charm might have been rather blinding at first."

"Do you think Mary found him charming?" Matthew ventured.

"If at first, not anymore," Cora replied. "I'll let her know you were looking for her."

Matthew mumbled his thanks and Mary heard Cora's heel's click away. Not knowing if Matthew was still outside, she cracked open the door for a look. He was leaning against the wall and quickly turned his head to look at her, surprise on his face.

"Hi," Mary said, gripping the neck of the wine bottle.

"Hey," he said, frowning. "Are you hiding in the boot room?"

She sniffed. "No."

Mary opened the door to admit him, returning to her spot on the crate, taking another swig of wine. Matthew shut the door before sitting on the floor by her feet, his back against the wall. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, but Mary offered him the wine and he took a drink and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry I was such a dick. And horribly, horribly jealous," he said finally, lifting his eyes to hers. "Forgive me?"

She leaned forward, the effects of the wine slowly taking effect, and kissed his forehead. "I will."

He cracked a smile before taking another drink from the bottle. "You're the best," he mumbled.

"I know," Mary replied. "What happened after I left?"

"Well, I had to apologize to that prick, didn't I? Your father nearly strangled me for being so loud."

"Better than getting fired," Mary offered, but he only shrugged. "Matthew, you don't want to get the sack, do you? I thought you loved this job."

He looked up. "There's something I love more," he said. "_Someone _I love more."

She felt a smile lift the corners of her lips at his correction. "I suppose you mean me?"

Matthew grinned, brushing his palm over her calf. "I do love you a hell of a lot more than any job."

"As you should," Mary murmured, tracing her thumb along Matthew's jaw before taking hold of his tie and bringing her lips to his.

She heard the bottle clang on the floor, but ignored it as Matthew pulled her into his lap,

his hands gliding up her thighs. He kissed her neck and Mary felt her heart thrash against her chest.

"What about the rest of the party?" she questioned, fingers gliding through Matthew's hair.

"God, let's not go out there again. Let's hide until the party's over and then slip up to your room," he offered.

"Do you want us both to be sacked?" Mary asked, shakily pulling herself away from Matthew. "I need some coffee anyway, I think I drank that wine too quickly."

He stood, helping Mary to her feet. "I'm sorry-I was just thinking of myself."

"Don't apologize," she said, checking her mascara, "it isn't as though I really want to go out there either. But you are fully expected to come to my room once this night of hell is over."

He chuckled, kissing her shoulder as Mary opened the door to peek outside. With a smile she pushed him away, but not before locking eyes with her mother.

"Oh, dammit."

_**Thoughts?**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

Cora's eyes widened for a moment, narrowing in the space of a heartbeat. Matthew's lips were only a millimeter from her shoulder, his breath would have been on her skin but he'd seemed to have lost the ability to exhale as soon as Cora had seen them.

"Oh, hell," Mary breathed, fear and dread filling her limbs as Cora crossed the floor.

"Mary, might I speak with you?" she asked, her voice controlled but eyes harsh.

"Mama, we were just-" Mary began, searching for some excuse as to why she and Matthew would be in the boot room together. But the glare on Cora's face caused her to go silent. She cast one last look at Matthew, who's eyes mirrored the anxiety she felt, before following her mother.

By the time Cora stopped walking, they were so far from the party that Mary couldn't hear the music anymore. No doubt it was so her mother could yell as much as she liked.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mary?" Cora growled through clenched teeth. "Screwing around with one of your father's colleagues in the middle of-"

"We're not 'screwing around'," Mary said, inciting an indignant huff from her mother. "I love him."

Cora laughed. "God, Mary, you're such a child sometimes. Do you even _know_ Matthew at all? Do you know how many of his girlfriends your father and I have had to pretended to tolerate over the years? And now you want to join them? It's a long list and I can assure you love has nothing to do with it."

Hot tears burned Mary's eyes at her mother's words. "He's...he's changed."

Her mother snorted. "For you, has he? Men don't change, Mary."

"He has," she maintained, hating that her chin was quivering, that she was so close to tears. "He loves me."

Cora frowned, but her eyes softened. She took Mary's arm. "Darling, you know this isn't a good idea. No matter what you feel, this could end very badly for both of you. Your father has his reasons, but having a relationship with someone you work with-it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Do you really think Papa would fire either of us? He adores Matthew and I'm his daughter."

"Nepotism rears its ugly head, does it? Your father also knows Matthew a hell of a lot better than you do and he's told me things that-"

Mary shook her head. "Mama, I don't care about his past. He never cared about any of those women, he told me."

"But he cares about you, does he?" Cora asked, crossing her arms. "Is that what he said?"

"He loves me-I know he does," Mary said, but her doubts were surfacing with every response from her mother, each reminder of Matthew's past character like a pinprick.

"Do you honestly think, in that whole slew of women he dated, that he's never said that to any of them? Just to get them into bed?"

Mary's stomach felt as though a brick had fallen into it. "He's...he's not like that any more," she said, voice shaking.

"I hope so," her mother replied. "For your sake, darling, I hope so."

Cora touched Mary's cheek, turning to go back to the party.

"You...you won't tell Papa?" Mary asked.

Her mother stopped, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "I won't, because I think you should. But be careful, Mary. There's more than one way Matthew could hurt you."


	6. Chapter 6

_From a few anonymous asks sent to my Tumblr, petercapaldork: "For our UTM verse - is Mary going to start to have doubts over Matthew? If so, hopefully he does something kind (and not related to getting her into bed) that reassures her. Or are you going to torture us?" and "Matthew comes up to Marys room at the end of the night, but Mary begins to question their 'relationship' / where they are going after her convo with Cora ?!"_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Six**

Mary's stomach contracted as she followed the path her mother had walked moments before, running through excuses in her mind to leave the party. A headache seemed like the most viable option, although she doubted it would free her from questions in the morning about Mr. Pamuk's roaming hands. And Matthew coming to her aid.

She crossed to the dessert table, finding the coffee without looking around, knowing she incited interested looks from many whom she passed.

After grabbing a cup, she turned away from the table, her eyes somehow finding Matthew's instantly. She shook her head slightly, hoping to convey that Cora had promised silence. She lifted her hand momentarily, in an effort to tell him to stay away until they could speak more privately, despite the fact that she wasn't sure she even wanted to.

The conversation with her mother had unsettled Mary more than any event of the evening so far. _He loves me_, she thought to herself, noticing the smile Matthew gave her before turning away, back to business discussions as usual. But still, she bit her bottom lip, so deep in thought she hardly noticed the woman who now stood at her side until she spoke.

"God, that was pretty heroic, wasn't it?"

Mary turned her head, vaguely recognizing the speaker.

"Vivian, right?" Mary asked.

The woman nodded her red-bobbed head, the fake coloring blatantly obvious from the magenta undertones.

"I work in accounting," Vivian replied, eyes focusing on Matthew as she took a sip from the wine glass she held. "But, God, he's a prince, huh?"

"You mean Mr. Crawley?" Mary asked, throat drying suddenly.

"Coming to your aid like that—how I wish he'd do so much for me," she sighed.

"I had it under control. I hardly think—" Mary began, but Vivian wasn't paying attention.

"I suppose he only pays attention to women he _hasn't _slept with."

Mary's stomach felt as though it had dropped to her feet.

"What? You and Matthew?"

Vivian waved her hand, taking another drink. "Oh, ages ago, please don't tell your father. It only happened twice, unfortunately for me. Clearly Mr. Crawley's forgotten all about me. Never even says hello if we pass in the caf. But, hell, I'd do it all again if I could have another go with such a delicious man."

Mary's fingers shook as she held her cup, the liquid slopping inside a bit. "Holy hell," she breathed.

Lucikly Vivian seemed to take her expletive as a sign of surprise rather than jealousy, prompting her to continue sharing more with Mary than she wanted.

"He's a sweet talker and quite the gentleman, if you'll believe it. Well, until he gets your clothes off."

Mary nearly dropped her coffee cup. "Excuse me, V-Vivian," she stammered, setting the half-full cup back on the table. "I, um, have some things—"

She hastened away, breath hitching in her throat as she nearly ran from the room. She was almost to her bedroom when she heard footsteps behind hers, Matthew's voice ringing in her ears.

"Darling, where are you going?"

She stopped dead, taking a deep breath before turning around and grabbing his arm.

"Come with me," she murmured, dragging Matthew into her room. She shut the door when he was inside and flicked on the lights, her eyes trained on the floor as she kept her distance from him.

"What did your mother say?" he asked after a few moments of strained silence.

"She won't tell Papa, if that's what you're asking," Mary replied, brushing past him to walk to the window, shifting the curtain aside to look out into the blackness. She felt Matthew's eyes on her back, heard his feet move across the floor until he was standing at the foot of the bed.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"How many girlfriends have you had?" she asked, hating herself for asking the question.

Matthew made a sputtering sound. "What?"

She turned on him, eyes brimming with tears. "How many women have you slept with? Or is the number too big to remember?"

He looked indignant. "Why are you asking that? Is it something Cora said?"

She ignored the question. "God, how many times have I seen you show up with some woman on your arm? A different woman nearly every time, too. I can't remember seeing any of them more than once."

"None of those women mattered to me, Mary!" Matthew stated, raising his voice. "I only care about you!"

She frowned, her voice quavering. "How many of them did you say that to? How many women have you told 'I love you' just to get them to sleep with you?"

"I don't—" he began, expression pained.

"You don't know? Is that what you were about to say?" she asked.

"How many men have _you_ said it to?" Matthew retorted, anger flaring.

"Two," she said through clenched teeth. "Just two."

Matthew's eyes softened and he swallowed. "Christ, I'm sorry, I wasn't…I wasn't trying to compare you to—"

"To you? No, of course not," Mary replied.

"I thought you forgave me for all that?" he asked.

"So did I," she whispered.

"God, Mary, it's not like we were seeing each other or I even knew that you had feelings for me," he scoffed.

She shook her head, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She crossed her arms. "I'm starting to wonder if feelings even matter to you."

His eyebrows furrowed and he reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled it away. "Please don't say that."

"Do you remember Vivian?" she asked, the question from her lips before she could stop herself.

"V-Vivian?" he asked, the lack of recognition in his eyes making her feel even sicker.

"Of course. You don't remember her, do you? She works in accounting. A dyed-red head. Apparently you had a fling a few years ago. Did you tell her you love her, too?"

He didn't respond right away, clearly unable to remember any moment from his past with the woman from accounting.

"Shit, if I had known all of this would come back to bite me in the ass, I would have—"

"Not slept with all those women?" Mary asked, wiping at her eyes.

He paused again.

"Maybe," he murmured finally. "I don't know."

"Neither do I, Matthew. And that's what scares me," she replied, throat constricting.

"Mary, I love you," he repeated, the words sending a feeling of pain rather than relief through her.

"So you say," she whispered. "But how can I believe you anymore?"

He moved closer, his eyes burning with passion. "Because it's true!"

"I can't be sure," Mary breathed, heart aching as she said it, eyes stinging again.

"_But you were sure_," Matthew retorted angrily. "God, Mary, what do I have to do to prove it? Tell your father? Hire a skywriter to put it in the clouds? Quit my job?"

"I-I don't know," she said. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

He gaped at her, mouth hanging open as he struggled to find words. "So is this it? Are you…breaking up with me?"

"No, I—" she paused, taking a few ragged breaths. "I don't know. It's just…I don't know if I can be with someone I can't trust."

Mary was surprised to see tears in Matthew's eyes at her reply, the sight sending another pang through her heart.

"Well then," he said, exhaling slowly, "I don't know if I can be with someone who doesn't trust me."

"Oh, Matthew," she said, wiping at her eyes. "Don't be so selfish!"_  
_

His eyebrows raised. "You think I'm selfish, do you? For having a life while you sat around, waiting…for what exactly? For me to change or to notice you or what?"

"You ass, Matthew Crawley," Mary retorted, so angry she thought she could punch him. "You complete and utter ass! You're the one who said you've been in love with me for ten bloody years!"

"And I have been!" he shouted back. "Do you think for one second that I liked seeing you with all those boyfriends you brought home from uni?"

"Ha! All three of them? Oh, yes, how tragic for you. While I was busy taking tests and writing papers, you were boning the entire accounting department!"

"One woman hardly constitutes an entire department!"

"Oh, who knows how many more of them you 'can't remember'," she spat, using air quotes liberally. "How long until you forget me, too?"

Matthew's anger receded, his expression grim. "Do you really want to test that theory?" he questioned.

She blinked back tears. "I don't want to," she said. "I do love you."

He swallowed hard. "I love you, too. God, so much. But it's not enough, is it?"

"I want it to be," Mary replied, voice small.

"I can't sit here and be a bloody circus animal. Performing for you, bending to your every whim. Honestly, I wish I was enough for you. All of me. Past, present, whatever the hell is going to happen in the future. Or whatever's _not_ going to happen now."

His words sliced through her like a knife.

"Matthew, you are!"

He shook his head, his feet backing away from her. "Clearly, I'm not. But hey, at least I've still got a job, huh? At least I didn't throw everything away, right?"

"Please, don't say that," she said, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

He lifted his hands in surrender. "I don't know what else to do, Mary. I have no damn clue what you want me to do. But if you ever figure it, let me know. Maybe I'll _remember_."

His hand was on the doorknob, every fiber in Mary crying out for her to ask him to stay with her, to ignore every instinct that told her not to.

"Matthew—" she began, voice shaking.

He turned to her, blinking away the moisture in his eyes.

"It…it's probably best that we don't see each other outside of work anymore, so, um, I'll head home tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," she said tearfully.

"But I do," Matthew replied.

He gazed at her for another long moment, as though he wanted to say something else, but he turned and left the room. All Mary could do was stare at the closed door, her stomach in knots.

_**Thoughts?**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Anonymous on Tumblr asked for the next installment, so here it is. Please forgive me for the angst, as this one gets a bit rough._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Seven**

Mary had awoken on New Year's Day to find Matthew had left before breakfast, claiming a family emergency had called him away—nothing serious, he'd said, but he had to leave, offering Cora his sincerest of apologies before apparently hurrying out of the house with his things. When Mary had appeared for breakfast, Cora had told her of his departure, giving her thinly veiled glances of concern over their eggs and toast, but not requesting more information.

Unable to stay there any longer, Mary left for her own flat before lunch, her inactive mobile feeling heavy in her coat pocket. For the rest of the week it remained largely silent, excepting e-mails from work and calls from her friends and family—which she largely ignored.

But nothing from Matthew.

Returning to work the next Monday after the holidays, Mary felt so much anxiety she nearly threw up before leaving home, forcing her to chew on some antacids to settle her still-empty stomach.

"Mary, could you drop by Mr. Crawley's and get those numbers for the environmental impact?"

Mid-morning she looked up from her desk, the head of marketing at the door of her office.

"I'm busy, John. Can you ask someone else?" she asked, the sound of Matthew's name causing her heart to jump.

"They're working on the design for production," he said. "Just pop in. It won't take more than a minute."

Mary stared at his receding back, unable to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. She stood, her legs shaking as she made her way down to the lifts, barely able to make small talk with her fellow employees as it carried her to the correct floor. Her feet felt heavy as she walked to Matthew's office, her anxiety so severe it was as though she would throw up.

She paused briefly outside his door before knocking, his exasperated "Come in" turning her stomach.

"Mr. Crawley, John asked me to pick up the—"

Mary's voice disappeared as she took in the scene before her. Vivian was perched on the corner of Matthew's desk, her legs crossed beneath the skirt that barely covered half her thighs. She was mid-giggle, but Matthew's fingers were pressed to his forehead, his eyes hidden until he heard Mary's voice.

Stomach feeling like it'd been kicked, Mary's hand reached for the handle of the door.

"Sorry, I'll come back later—" she managed, blinking to keep the tears from her eyes.

Matthew leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers. "There's no need. Miss Collins was just leaving."

She noted the determination in his voice, the way his gaze did not waver from hers as Vivian gave an indignant scoff before sulkily stalking from the room.

"I just…came for the environmental impact report," Mary breathed once the door was shut at their backs.

Matthew continued to stare at her for a few moments, his eyes slightly watery before he finally looked away. "Right. Okay."

He stood, opening the drawer on a filing cabinet before rifling through it. Mary dropped her eyes to the floor, in the hopes that staring at the carpet would keep her from crying.

The cabinet slid shut and still she stared at the floor, not raising her eyes until the toes of Matthew's dress shoes came into view. She looked up and he swallowed, his eyes distressed as he looked at her.

"Here you go," he spoke softly, holding the folder out.

"Thanks," she replied, her voice catching on that one word. She screamed at herself to move after taking the folder, but her feet felt like someone had nailed them to the floor.

"How was the rest of your holiday?" Matthew questioned, sadness in his eyes.

"Dreadful," Mary said, barely able to breathe with him so near, with his eyes so gentle.

"I can imagine," he said, maintaining the space between them as though it was a buffer.

"Looks like you've had a nice morning with Vivian," she retorted.

Matthew frowned. "I didn't ask her to come in here."

"Well, you certainly didn't ask her to leave, did you? What? Did you find someone to heal your broken heart on New Year's?"

"Don't do this," he entreated.

Her throat felt dry, his failure to deny her assumption like a knife. "Did you kiss her?"

"Mary, please—" he breathed and she inhaled sharply.

"Oh, God. You did, didn't you?"

The tears were coming now and she was powerless to stop them.

"After we argued I drank too much. It just sort of happened," he said, eyes full of remorse.

"Did you sleep together?"

"No," Matthew said firmly. "No, we didn't."

"Well, clearly Vivian thinks there was something more in that kiss than just drunk regret," Mary said, disbelief coursing through her. "My, God, Matthew, how could you kiss her? And right after we argued, too? God!"

"Shit, Mary, I was upset! I was drunk! She wouldn't leave me alone and I wasn't thinking! It didn't mean anything to me!"

"Oh, so it's her fault?" Mary questioned.

"No, it's my fault—all my fucking fault, but, _God_, you're acting like I'm the only person who ever screws up!"

"I didn't come in here to do this," she said, feeling as though she might fall over. Frowning, Matthew took her arm, the gesture doing nothing to alleviate her dizziness.

"Darling, I—"

"I thought you couldn't be with someone who doesn't—who obviously can't—trust you?" she asked tearfully.

"Please, don't. I messed up. God knows I've messed up so many times lately, but I know I don't want to be with anyone but you, Mary."

"Matthew, I can't do this. It's killing me, but I can't. Why should I trust you if it only took you a few drinks to kiss another woman? When a few more could have led to something else?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen," he repeated, his words falling heavily, like a slab of concrete she couldn't shift. "I'm so, so sorry."

"So am I. But apologies mean nothing if there's no change. And you've shown me that my mother was right: men don't change."

He swallowed and she turned away, the one to head for the door this time.

"I _can_ change," Matthew said, determination in his voice.

She turned her head, eyes pained as she looked at him again.

"I hope so," Mary murmured, breath catching in her throat. She wiped her eyes before proceeding out the door, head held high.

* * *

"Anything to drink, Mary?"

She looked up from the surface of the bar, meeting her friend's eyes.

"Gin and tonic," she told her.

Anna ordered their drinks, turning to look at her again. "Can't you tell me what's bothering you?" she asked. "You were so happy before Christmas."

"A premature happiness, I'm sure," Mary said bitterly. "Three weeks of bliss and then nothing but regret."

"Who is this guy? I'll wring his neck," Anna said, thanking the bartender who placed the drinks on the counter. She took a sip of her drink, watching Mary over the top.

"_That_ would be hilarious," she murmured without humor, downing a rather large gulp of her drink.

Anna watched her for a few moments, clearly in thought.

"Is it someone from work?"

Mary met her friend's eyes. "Yes," she breathed.

Anna paused again, lips pressed together as her eyes surveyed the bar. "Matthew Crawley?" she asked.

"How did you—?" Mary began.

"He's the arse who gave you the jilt after only three weeks?" Anna asked. "And I thought he was so nice last time I saw him."

"That's not exactly what happened," she replied.

"Still, he's an arse. I've got to go to the loo, but you'll be okay for a minute?" Anna asked and Mary nodded, finding herself alone.

"Another drink, love?"

Mary looked at the man beside her, annoyed Anna had chosen to go to the loo and this guy seemed to think it okay to talk to her.

"I'm fine," she replied, noting that at least he was cute.

"Sorry to intrude," he apologized. "You just look…sad."

"Sad?" she asked.

"Like someone killed your cat," he said, lifting the corner of his mouth in a smile.

"Well, not recently, anyway," Mary replied, the man chuckling quietly.

"Sorry again. I'm Charles, by the way. Charles Blake."

"Mary," she murmured, catching movement over Charles' shoulder.

Matthew had just entered the pub with a group of male friends, smiling and unaware Mary sat only thirty feet away as they found a table in the corner.

"Nice to meet you, Mary," he said, clinking his glass against her empty one.

Finally looking around at the scene, Matthew turned his head, his grin disappearing in an instant at the sight of her sitting by another man, his eyes as though it had never been there in the first place. Their eyes locking as neither seemed able to move for a moment, Charles still waiting for her reply.

Instead of speaking, she crashed her lips into his, Charles leaning back in surprise, but soon kissed her back. Stomach lurching, Mary pulled away, her eyes burning with tears.

"Well, that was a surpri—Mary?" he asked, but she was already on her feet, heading for the door as Matthew's eyes followed her. She completely forgot about Anna, although luckily her friend had exited the toilets at the same time Mary broke away from Charles' lips, witnessing most of the disaster.

She pushed the front door aside, the scuffle of footsteps behind her mixed with the voices to whom they belonged as Anna and Matthew followed after her.

"Mary, what the hell?"

His voice was angrier than he'd ever heard it, his hand taking her arm harder than he'd intended.

"Let go of her," Anna said, her no-nonsense tone surprisingly threatening as Mary turned around, Matthew's hand immediately dropping to his side.

Mary frowned, her eyes burning with tears. "Matthew, I don't—"

"What is wrong with you? _You_ give me shit for kissing another woman when I'm drunk and now you do the same goddamned thing? Christ, Mary!" Matthew groaned.

"It was impulsive and stupid, I know, but it isn't as though we _just_ broke up, you complete and utter jackass!"

"So that makes it okay?" he shot back. "Kissing another guy when I'm twenty feet away?"

"Stop it!" Anna shouted, stepping between them. "Matthew, you need to go back inside," she said, nodding to the door.

He looked baffled, as though shocked such a small person contained enough authority within her to order him around.

Without another word, he stomped back inside, Anna turning to Mary immediately

"Mary?" she asked, concerned as she placed her hand on Mary's arm.

"Three weeks," she breathed, heart racing as she watched him disappear inside. "Three weeks and, God, I still love him."

_**Thoughts?**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

Six weeks. Their time apart was now double the length of her relationship with Matthew. Three weeks had passed since their argument outside that pub, when Anna had shouted at him with more conviction than Mary possessed, her own impulsive behavior surely serving to decrease Matthew's love for her.

He'd first called it "breaking up," and that the time she wondered if it was really so, a relationship that had been so hidden that her mother had only found out about it on the night of its disintegration, all further encounters more like explosions rather than broken glass.

But she certainly felt broken now, cracked in half, splintering into a thousand pieces every time she saw him across the corridor, every time she glimpsed him in the caf or watched him come out of her father's office.

Yes, she was broken like she'd never been before.

Mary had lost count the number of times she'd thrown up before leaving for work now, her anxiety peaking that she even forced herself to the doctor. It was not like her to feel so out of control, so frayed that she couldn't see a way out of it.

So utterly destroyed.

"You've been feeling anxious?" the doctor asked, checking records on the computer.

"For about a month now," Mary explained, fingers knit together on her lap.

The doctor made and innocuous clicking noise, her eyes roaming down the screen. "Your urine test came back odd—"

"Odd?" Mary asked. "What do you mean? Do I have a bladder infection?"

"You're pregnant," she replied.

"What?" Mary's eyes widened, feeling as though she would fall through the floor. "P-pregnant?" she stammered, feeling dizzy.

The doctor stood, noticing the dazed look on Mary's face.

"I want you to lie down and I'll examine you. Just relax," she murmured.

Mary swallowed, her eyes burning as she stared at the ceiling. Her chin quivered as she forced herself to hold it in using every ounce of her self-control, her heart feeling as though it was in a vice.

"Everything looks good," the doctor finally voiced, placing a hand on Mary's arm, her eyes sympathetic as she viewed Mary's distress. "Can I get you anything?"

Mary shook her head, covering her face with one hand as she pressed her lips together.

"I'll give you a few moments."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Mary couldn't hold it in any longer, the pain of holding them in sending waves of sobs through her body. She pressed her face into the exam bed, tear dampening the sterile paper sheet covering it. Hundreds of questions sped through her mind: Hadn't they been careful? How could this have happened? What were they going to do? What was _she _going to do?

* * *

"Mary, I didn't know you were coming back after you appointment," her father said, spotting her as she made her way across the legal department.

She'd resolved to tell Matthew. He deserved to know, at least. No matter what she decided to do.

"I just forgot something," she lied.

"Everything in ship shape?" he asked. "An earache, you said?"

"It's fine—I've got…drops now." Another lie. "Have you seen Matthew?" His name was like a rock in her throat, but she needed to find him.

Robert sighed. "He resigned."

"_What_?" Mary asked.

"Brought his letter in right after lunch—said he'd gotten another job up near Manchester," her father told her. "Bloody sprung it on me."

"Manchester? But how could he do that?"

"Search me," Robert said. "I've no idea what's brought it on. Ten years he's been here. God, I thought he was so fond of all of us. Do you have any idea what might have caused it? I can't think of anything."

Mary sniffed. "No. Nothing," she said flatly.

Her father sighed again, stepping forward to kiss her cheek. "Go home, darling. You look horribly spent."

She nodded, half wishing she could follow her father's advice and go home, curl up in bed, and sleep for the next nine months.

But she couldn't.

* * *

Her feet carried her slowly to the door of Matthew's flat. She'd only been there three times before, as their fling had mostly been spent in her flat, hiding away from the world, ordering takeaway, and snuggling in bed. Three weeks of happiness and now nothing but despair.

She took a ragged breath, fist poised in front of the wood before she knocked loudly, the sound as hollow as her insides.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door and she imagined Matthew checking the peephole, a sigh heard before he pulled the door open. He stared at her for a few moments and Mary's body tensed, her knotted stomach making her nausea return.

"C-can I come in?" she stammered. He watched her for another moment before shrugging, taking a step to the side to allow her to pass. She entered, her eyes falling on the many boxes around the sitting room, causing her to wonder how long he'd been planning to leave.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, the edge to his voice feeling like a punch to the gut.

"Papa said you resigned," Mary breathed. She faced him, resting her hand on the back of the sofa in case she passed out. "Because of me?"

He frowned, his eyes pained. "God, Mary, what do you think?"

"_But you can't leave_—"

"_I can't stay_. _Not now_," he replied.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gripping the sofa tighter. "I'm so sorry about that night at the pub."

Matthew shook his head. "Save it," he said. "I know you did it just to get back at me. But shit, at least I didn't kiss someone else right in front of you."

She looked at the floor, her vision blurring with tears. "It was wrong of me, I know, but I wanted to hurt you because I couldn't bear to be the only one in pain."

His voice cut through her like a knife. "Well, mission accomplished," he spat. "Was this what you came here for? To remind me of that?"

"No," she said. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the look on his face as she forced herself to speak again. "Matthew, I'm…I'm pregnant."

The silence that followed was deafening, as though neither of them even breathed. Finally, Mary looked up, Matthew's expression frozen in place, his eyes blank and unblinking.

"_Say something…if it's only good-bye_," she begged, desperately praying those would not be the words out of his mouth.

"Holy shit," he breathed raggedly, his chest heaving. "Oh, my God. And it's—_mine_?"

"Of course it is, you daft man," Mary replied. "You can't get pregnant from kissing!"

"I know that!" he shouted back, raking a hand through his hair. "But, God, how did it…we were so…careful, weren't we?"

"I thought so too, but birth control is only so effective," she murmured, blinking back tears. "Oh, God," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "God, I don't have to keep it."

She heard his sigh, surprise replaced by comfort as Matthew wrapped his arms tightly around her and held Mary to his chest. He pressed his lips to her hair, the gesture only causing her to cry harder, until both of them were sobbing against the other, Matthew's tears in her hair.

"Please, don't say that," he whispered. "Please, don't."

"What do you expect me to do? You're leaving me," she murmured tearfully, fingers clinging to his shirt.

He kissed her forehead. "I won't go," Matthew said. "You're going to have a baby, my darling. Our baby." She looked up, stunned that the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"You mean, you're not angry with me?"

Brow furrowed, he shook his head. "For what? It isn't your fault. If anything, it's both our faults, but this is not your sole responsibility to bear."

She broke down again, pressing her face to his neck. "Oh, God, Matthew, I was so terrified."

"Of me?" he murmured, fingers caressing her hair.

"Of everything. And when Papa said you'd resigned, I was sure you'd given up on me."

"Not you," Matthew said. "I was running away, darling, because I was afraid of myself."

Mary lifted her head, reaching up to trace her fingers across his jaw. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't bear the pain anymore. I thought leaving would make things easier for us both."

"But you won't go?"

"How could I? God, Mary, I still love you. Of course I do," he said. "In the six weeks we were apart, I never stopped wanting to be with you."

"Oh, Matthew," she sighed, relieved for the first time in weeks, "me too. I love you."

A gentle smile on his lips, Matthew leaned forward, his hand cradling the back of her neck as he kissed her. The feeling of his lips against hers brought further relief, knowledge even that Matthew was so much more than the man she had mistakenly thought him to be. He was caring, he loved her, and, for now, it could be enough.

A few minutes passed and she pulled away, her eyes widening slightly.

"But what will I tell my parents?" she asked, fearful again.

"_We_, darling. We'll tell them together," Matthew insisted, leaning his forehead to hers. "You don't have to do any of this alone. You have me."

_**Thoughts?**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Under the Mistletoe**, part 9

"Robert, may I speak with you?"

Matthew's voice shook slightly, the tremor in it nearly sending Mary to his side. But she remained by her father's desk, hands clasped together to keep her from reaching for Matthew's hand.

Robert frowned. "I thought you'd be halfway to Manchester by now. Wasn't that the idea?"

"I'm sorry about leaving so suddenly, but, I'd like to stay with the company. I was wrong."

"Mary, give us a moment," Robert began.

"Actually, I'd like to stay," she said, hoping he wouldn't send her out.

Her father sighed in resignation, returning his attention to Matthew. "Can you explain to me at all what caused you to leave it in the first place? Have I not been a decent employer?"

"On the contrary, Robert, I've greatly enjoyed being at this company. I'm sorry, but I have no excuses for my rash decision. But I'd like to retract my resignation," Matthew said.

Robert's eyes were unmoving as he considered Matthew, his gaze icy. "First you resign and now you retract it? After positively _begging _for me to accept it? Why in the hell would I do that? Let you come back after leaving me in such a bind?"

"I know I have no right to ask this of you," Matthew said, his eyes flicking to Mary's for a moment. "But please believe me that I've never been so happy as I have been working at this company."

"Then why would you want to leave it?" Robert asked, getting to his feet. He stayed behind the desk, his palms pressed to the wood as he leaned over it. "Why the bloody hell would you spring in here and tell me you've got another job?"

"I thought-I thought I had a reason to leave. But I don't. Now, I have a reason to stay," he said, eyes locked on Robert's determinedly.

Mary turned her head to look at her father, an expression of recognition passing over his face.

"That girl?" he asked, the question sending Mary's heart into her throat. "She changed her mind about you, did she?"

Matthew looked as though he was forcing himself not to look at Mary as he replied, "I think so."

Robert made an approving noise. "Well, finally, I'd say. Whoever she is, I can't believe it took you ten years to convince her you weren't a cad. Not that you've exactly proven yourself otherwise."

Mary noted the jest in her father's tone, the backhanded compliment completely evident. Robert knew Matthew was a cad, but he accepted him anyway. Hopefully he could be so forgiving of his own daughter.

"This is your warning, Matthew. Another stunt like that and you can forget all letters of recommendation. Do we have an understanding?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Matthew said, eyes flicking to Mary for just a moment. "Thank you, Robert."

Her father waved his hand. "It's not as though I had _really _accepted your resignation in the first place. Although if you hadn't shown up today, I suppose I would have had to."

Matthew smiled gratefully. "I suppose so."

"But what about your living arrangements? You said your landlord released you from the contract, didn't you?"

"I've put most of my things in storage and I'm in an hotel until I find somewhere else."

"Put it on the company card," Robert suggested.

"That's more than I deserve-" Matthew began.

"Very true," Robert said, the lightness in his voice making Mary inexplicably uneasy. Could her father really forgive him this easily? And what would happen when he found out about their relationship? Would he be so forgiving a second time.

"Well, let me thank you, all the same. This Friday, dinner at The Grand with you and Cora, on me."

"Will you bring your mystery girl? Introduce us to the woman who convinced you to stay?"

Again, Matthew kept his gaze from Mary's, although she could see the physical effort of such a feat caused a pained expression on his face. "If I can convince her," Matthew replied.

"I'll have Mrs. Hughes set up the reservations so we can have my usual room. Fridays are usually mad, but it'll be quieter and they've never refused me before," Robert said.

Matthew nodded, thanking Robert again before slipping out the door. Mary stared after him, floored as he father spoke again.

"I'm quite interested in this woman," he said slowly. "What a woman she must be to have finally convinced him to settle down."

Mary made a noise of agreement, not trusting her own voice.

"Did you need somethign else?" he asked after a few moments.

"No...no, Papa," Mary said, kissing his cheek quickly. "I should get back to it."

She left the office, her feet carrying her distracted mind to the lifts. She punched the button, surprised when the doors opened to reveal Matthew. He was smiling at her, but she stepped inside, pushing the door close button with such fervor, she wouldn't have been surprised if she broke it.

"I can't believe he did that," she murmured, ignoring Matthew's fingers brushing against her neck. "If anyone else had done that, they would have been out on their ass, but you-"

"Are you annoyed I have a job now? A job where I can stay with you?" He frowned.

"No, it's just...what happens when he finds out about us? When Papa finds out I'm pregnant?"

Matthew kissed her forehead quickly, stepping away in case the lift doors opened.

"I'm sure he'll see reason, darling. He's going to have a grandchild, after all," he murmured, giving her a small smile.

"And what's he going to say when he finds out you've moved into my flat and are not in fact staying at a hotel?"

"Hopefully relieved that his wallet isn't getting lighter on my account."

Mary sighed, still unsure. "And now I've been roped into going to dinner with you two and Mama. I hope you're prepared for the shit-storm that's going to rain down on us."

"It's not going to be that bad," Matthew said with a snort.

She gave him a look, reaching over to take his hand, fingers cleaving to his. "I hope you're right."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten**

Mary's chest felt tight, as though a boa constrictor was wrapped around her rib cage, crushing her with every attempted breath. Her anxiety must have shown because Matthew immediately took her hand as she let out a slow breath.

"It'll be fine," her murmured giving her hand a gentle squeeze that was by no means reassuring. She squeezed back all the same, wishing she could be as calm about this as he seemed to be. But perhaps Matthew had less reason to be afraid of her father's temper than she did. Twenty-six years had taught her differently.

They walked into the restaurant, Mary grateful the private room was at the back, hiding them from view of her parents for another moment. She could already imagine her mother's face, an expression of unamusement surely placed there. She wouldn't have told Robert, not when the weight would be off her shoulders so soon.

Her father's head was turned when they came into view, murmuring at ease to Cora who looked rather nervous. At the sound of footsteps, Robert turned his head, seeing Mary first.

"Darling, what are you…doing…here?" Slowly her father's eyes had drifted to Mary and Matthew's intertwined fingers, growing wide as they approached the table. Robert waited until the host was gone to speak again, his mouth hanging open in shock as Matthew pulled a chair out for Mary who was afraid to sit in case her father leapt across the table. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"Papa, I—" Mary began, her father seething as he looked between the two of them. She took Matthew's hand once he was seated at her side, his face now as nervous as her mother's.

"Robert—" Matthew had started to speak at the same time, but both were interrupted.

"Mary is the woman you've been pining after for years? My daughter? _MY DAUGHTER?_" he shouted, looking to his wife for support in his indignation. Cora merely looked strained. "For Christ's sake, Cora, did you know about this?"_  
_

"I thought it Mary's responsibility to tell you," she said. "I stumbled across them on New Year's."

Robert looked back at Mary and Matthew, his eyes hard. "Doing what?"

A confirmatory blush crept into Mary's cheeks, Matthew's fingers anxiously wriggling beneath hers.

"Robert, please, let me explain," he began.

"What the hell is there to explain, Matthew? You've been seeing my daughter behind my back, without my permission—"

"I don't need your permission," Mary interjected, a strange confidence spiking in her. "I'm not a child."

Robert leaned forward, as though trying to speak to Mary privately in spite of the fact that the others could hear every word he said. "Mary, please be rational about this. You've known Matthew for as long as I have. You…you know what he can be like."

Beside her, Matthew sighed, his grip relaxing in her hand. She turned her head, surprised to see his eyes fixed on the table, as though his confidence in the evening had been washed away.

Mary felt her eyes burn at this slight against Matthew. "Papa, there's so much more to him than just that. Truly. We've all been so horribly blind."

"Oh, Mary, you've been manipulated by his charms! If only you knew half the stories of his conquests, your tune would change in a heartbeat."

As her father spoke, the waitress entered, four wine glasses and a bottle on a tray. Robert pressed his lips together as she set the glasses on the table, pouring wine into each before placing the bottle near him.

"Anything else, sir?"

Mary was tempted to ask for a water, but she feared her parents' reaction to it. Thankfully, Matthew didn't.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," she said, leaving after a quick thanks from Robert.

"And you know how I feel about my employees dating! It creates too much tension in the workplace, distractions at every corner, incites gossip. But my _daughter_ decides she's above my silly rules, does she? God, Mary, do you know how that will look! My head of legal bedding the junior director of marketing?"

"Papa, he's not 'bedding' me!" Mary insisted, blushing at this half-truth. "I love him! He loves me!"

Robert looked as though he wanted to punch Matthew. "Is that what you told her? You love her? My God, Matthew, I can't believe you. After all these years together, hearing so many of your lurid stories and you've been _seducing my daughter behind my__ back_?"

"_I've not seduced anyone!_" Matthew retorted, a spark returning. "_Give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind! _And give me some!"

"_How dare you speak to me in that tone!_" Robert shouted back.

"Robert, please, be rational," Cora interjected, laying a hand on her husband's arm. Matthew picked up his glass of wine and took a drink, exhaling in a huff. "You can't be so oblivious not to realize this sort of thing has surely happened before between your employees."

"That hardly makes it acceptable," he replied, still staring daggers at Matthew.

"I quite agree," Cora continued, her eyes now focusing on Mary's untouched wine glass, "but there is no use getting so bent up about it. What's done is…done."

The waitress returned, setting the glass of water by Matthew before asking if they were ready to order. Robert sent her away with an appetizer order, Cora's gaze meeting Mary's.

She felt as though she was being examined, like her mother had worked out her new secret based on the fact that Mary hadn't taken one sip of the wine. Hoping to throw Cora off the scent, Mary brought the glass to her lips, pretending to take a sip before setting it back down, although Mathew had nearly stopped her from doing it, pulling his hand back at the last minute.

"Do you not like the year, Mary?" Cora questioned, taking a real sip of her own glass, eyes flitting between Matthew and Mary.

"It's her favorite," Robert said, "strangely enough, since I didn't know she was coming."

"Then why isn't she drinking it?"

"Mama," Mary began, color rising in her cheeks again, "don't."

Her father looked horribly aggravated by the ladies' interruption. "Back to the point—"

"Robert, I won't pretend that I've been a saint in the past ten years," Matthew began firmly, "God knows that I haven't. And I know I don't deserve any sort of second chance from you or Mary, but the fact remains that I am in love with your daughter."

"You've always been a very charismatic speaker, Matthew, I'll give you that. One of the things I've always liked about you, a lawyer who can turn a phrase. But this bullshit doesn't work on me like it did on her," Robert said.

Mary blinked back tears, pulling her hand from Matthew's to knit her fingers together on her lap. Her empty stomach churned uneasily, as though anxiety and pregnancy hormones were mixing with her father's lack of faith in her.

"It is not bullshit!" Matthew replied loudly. "God, what do I have to do to convince you—convince everyone—that I love her? That I've been in love with her for nearly ten years?"

"Words, Matthew, that's all I'm hearing," Robert replied callously. "Maybe if your actions with…relationships…over the past two or three years, let alone ten, had displayed some level of responsibility—"

"_I'm_ irresponsible?" Matthew snorted, the expression passing over her father's face clear he should shut up unless he wanted to be sacked or punched. Matthew took a deep breath, reaching under the table to cover Mary's hands with his. "Well, let me show you how responsible I am."

"Matthew," Mary interjected, "this isn't a good time."

Cora's lips pressed together in realization. "Oh, my God."

Robert looked round at his wife, confusion on his face. "What is it?"

"Papa, please remain calm," Mary begged, her father's frown deepening.

"Yes, Robert, I think that would be best," Cora insisted, hand on her husband's arm again.

"Someone tell me what the hell is going on or—"

"Mary's pregnant," Matthew spoke quickly.

Robert's eyes bulged in his head. "She—and you—_WHAT_?" he shouted.

"Oh, God," Cora murmured, pressing her fingertips to her brow.

"Mary?" Robert asked, looking to her.

Beneath the table, Matthew's fingers gave hers a gentle squeeze.

"It's true, Papa," she whispered, her father's disappointed gaze nearly more than she could bear.

"Good God!" Robert exclaimed. He turned to Matthew. "Responsible, my ass, Matthew—this is all _your_ fault!"

"I am responsible Robert—I want to marry her," Matthew said suddenly.

Mary turned her head so fast she felt dizzy from the movement and the conviction in Matthew's voice as she and Robert both spoke at the same time,

"WHAT?"

_**Thoughts?**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven**

Mary stared blankly at Matthew, hardly able to take in his gentle eyes as he looked back at her, as though she was the only other person in the room. Pulse pounded in her ears, her stomach feeling as though it had been filled with lead.

What was he thinking? Springing such a thing on her when they'd only known about the pregnancy for a week, had only reconciled a week ago.

"We've only been back together for a week," she managed to say, a frown etched on her face.

"Mary," he began, turning in his chair until his body faced her. He cupped her face in one hand, ignoring her parents. "I love you."

Her throat felt dry, but she couldn't ascertain her own feelings on the subject after overcoming the immediate surprise, as Robert's indignant scoff pulled the two of them back to a shaky reality.

"Marriage?" he laughed, one that displayed his clear disdain. "You must be joking. Do you even _have _a ring?"

"Robert—" Cora interjected tensely.

"Not with me," Matthew murmured, dropped Mary's gaze and his hand from her face. Robert ignored his response, looking like was about to speak again, but Cora silenced him.

Mary couldn't ignore such a proposal.

"Matthew, we haven't even talked about this," she said, voice quaking with nerves. She could feel her father's stony gaze on them both.

"Well, let's talk about it now," he insisted.

"This isn't exactly the best time," Mary replied.

"Yes, this entire conversation, the whole evening, is not exactly occurring at 'the best time'," Robert barked with sarcasm. "Perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to sleep with him!"

"Robert, calm down, this isn't helping," Cora said authoritatively, but Mary felt something inside her snap.

"Papa, I can't believe you! Only days ago you were speaking to me about how you were 'glad Matthew had found someone to settle down with', how you 'couldn't believe it took him ten years to convince her'. God! You're infuriating, with your double-standards and stupid rules," she retorted hotly, getting to her feet.

"Mary Josephine—" her father began angrily.

"No, Papa, don't you dare. I'm an adult, despite the fact that you can't see that. I can make my own decisions!"

She stormed out of the room, no idea where her feet were taking her. Soon she found herself at the toilets, pushing into the ladies' room without thinking, locking herself in one of the empty stalls.

A few minutes passed as Mary took control of her ragged breathing, hunched forward on the toilet lid with her arms wrapped around her middle. The outer door swung open, Cora's voice heard over her shallow breaths,

"Mary?"

She reached forward and unlocked the stall, peeking out at her mother. "In here," she mumbled.

Cora frowned, leaning against the wall as she stood in the doorway, gazing down at Mary.

"Please, don't say it," Mary whispered, wiping at her eyes.

"Say what?" Cora asked.

"I know I've been a disappointment to you both. God, have I! But Papa is so infuriating. Only a month ago at dinner it was: _Matthew this. Matthew that. Matthew, Matthew, Matthew_. He can posture all he likes, but I know it's me he despises now, not Matthew," Mary said.

"_Your father loves you very much_," Cora insisted. Crouching precariously in front of her daughter, she took Mary's hands.

"But Matthew's been the son he always wanted, he said so himself years ago! Every slight he gives to him is really directed at me."

"He's harsher with you because he loves you more," her mother said, her words hardly making Mary feel any better. "You know he's never been skilled at showing affection and you have behaved rather childishly."

"_You're no better_," Mary replied tearfully. "God, don't you think I know how much you wish I wasn't your daughter right now? That you wish I was more like Sybil or even Edith?"

"_Mary!_" Cora scolded.

"_I wish you'd just admit it! I'm a lost soul to you! _Pregnant and unmarried, bearing the child of my father's beloved prodigy!" she sobbed._  
_

Cora's grip tightened on her fingers, forcing Mary to look up into her mother's face. "Darling, I don't pretend things are rather bad right now. The situation is not..ideal, but that does not mean I don't love you and that I won't support you in this."

Mary leaned her face into her mother's shoulder. "Oh, Mama, I was terrified when I found out about the baby."

"And now?" Cora asked gently.

She leaned back, wiping her cheeks. "I almost can't believe it, but I…I'm at peace with it. Still nervous, but it's a baby. My child. Matthew's and mine," Mary whispered, a small smile on her face.

"And what about Matthew?" Cora questioned.

"Mama, if you both realized how much he's stepped up. He really has taken responsibility for everything. He's the one who wanted this dinner, wanted Papa to know about us. I just didn't realize he'd want to marry me."

Her mother knit her brows together. "We've all been rather blind when it comes to Matthew. Not that I can condone a twenty-one year old falling in love with my sixteen-year-old child, but if he's really been in love with you for ten years, I can't say I'm surprised if the thought crossed his mind in that time."

"And everything you said on New Year's?" Mary questioned.

Cora sighed, lifting her eyes with a shake of the head. "I only wanted you to be careful, darling. Secrecy is dangerous, especially in relationships. But I know Matthew was miserable without you. Every time I saw him with your father after that, it was as though a light had left his eyes and I'd never seen him behave that way before. In spite of his foolishness in the past, he _does_ love you."

"Do you think Papa will come round?"

"He likes to make a fuss, you know that, but I think he's been hurt more than he's angry. Anger is his way of dealing with pain. When he's had time to cool down, when we all have, I've no doubt he'll be just as thrilled for this baby as I am," Cora said.

Mary felt as though a weight had lifted off her chest. "Are you really, Mama?"

Cora smiled. "My first grandchild? Of course, darling."

"I'm not sure I can even be a mother," she admitted.

"I thought so too when I first found out about you, but you proved me wrong, darling."

"Oh, Mama," she said, her mother kissing her forehead.

"Matthew's waiting outside for you. I'll get your father home, let you know when he's calmed down enough to see reason," she replied.

"I suppose I'd better talk to Matthew," Mary murmured, both women standing in the stall.

"I think that would be best," Cora advised, hand on Mary's elbow as they exited the toilets.

Matthew stood in the hallway with his back against the wall. He looked up as they came out, fear and worry etched on his face, as though he thought Cora's conversation with Mary had knocked him down again.

"Bye, Matthew," Cora said, patting his arm before leaving them.

"Am I in for it again?" he questioned once they were alone.

"It's little more than you deserve," Mary said, approaching him slowly. She put her hand on his arm, her thumb grazing over the fabric of his sleeve.

"Are you teasing me?" Matthew asked, eyes fixed on her hand.

"Only a little," she replied, looking up into his face. "When did you buy a ring? Was it after you found out about the baby?"

He met her gaze. "No. No, it was before Christmas."

Mary's jaw dropped. "You were going to propose after three weeks together?"

Matthew pressed his lips together, stifling a grin. "I was waiting for the right time to give it to you, obviously. But I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you'll have me."

"So you didn't buy it after finding out I was pregnant?" she asked again, still in disbelief.

He shook his head. "No, darling. I would have proposed the day I got it, but I thought a week of dating was a bit fast to be planning a wedding."

"A week?"

"Well, that was plan A and now we're on plan B," he said. "But I'll go through plan X, Y, or Z if it means I can spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. I'll probably fail nine times out of ten, but, God that won't stop me from trying my damnedest."

"Oh, Matthew," she breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her lips to his jaw.

"Is that a yes?" he murmured.

"Are you proposing to me in the corridor in front of the toilets?" she asked.

"What? It isn't romantic enough for you? Picky, picky, picky," Matthew joked, brushing his nose against hers. "It doesn't have to be now. I can wait until we get home, show you the ring, and you can decide if I'm too cheap or not."

"I have a vague idea on your annual salary, so I'm sure I'd be a pretty good judge of it," Mary replied before kissing him on the lips.

_**Thoughts?**_


End file.
